


A Way of Saying Thank You

by magebird



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Blood, Bruises, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magebird/pseuds/magebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ariadne bandages Arthur up after a fight, and things get intimate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Way of Saying Thank You

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: [Arthur has an encounter on a job that leaves him bloodied and bruised. Ariadne tends to his wounds. hot sex may follow because Arthur enjoys knowing Ariadne is there to look out for him and he wants to repay her in some way.](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/3434.html?thread=4108394#t4108394) somewhat inspired by [this](http://i28.tinypic.com/avr1qf.jpg) pic of joe.

It wasn’t often that the team misjudged a job badly enough that someone got injured in reality, but when they did it was rarely pleasant. Arthur was used to pain, used to taking a hit for one or another of his partners, but it was harder to handle the wounds that didn’t vanish when you woke up and the bruises that lingered on for weeks. Blood tended to stain clothing in a way that not even the most talented dry-cleaner could quite repair, and the fuss people made over even the slightest of wounds was just unbearable.

Granted, there was a throbbing, free-flowing gash on his head where a security guard had struck him with the butt of his pistol, and half-a-dozen other places that ached or bled besides, but it wasn’t anything worse that he’d had before. Arthur could taste blood in the back of his throat as he lay across the rear seat, his head pillowed on Ariadne’s lap, but he wasn’t sure how bad it was. There had been a lot of blood and the towel Ariadne was holding against his forehead was almost soaked through. It had been lucky both Eames and Cobb were near enough when he fell to pull the guy off him before he did more damage, and that they’d been able to half carry Arthur to the car and get him inside.

It was a mercifully short drive, and Arthur leaned heavily on Cobb’s offered arm on the walk from the car to one of the lawn chairs they usually used for dreaming. Ariadne found a first aide kit somewhere and set to work doctoring his various cuts and bruises with a touch too gentle to be clinical. Her cool fingers pressed a damp cloth to the area around the wound on his forehead, wiping up the blood in careful swipes. He realized after a moment of lying down that hand felt wet and warm, and when he raised it to where he could see, he realized that there was a gash across his forearm just below his elbow and rivulets of blood were dripping down to his palm. He figured must have caught it on something when he’d been tackled to the ground.

“Stay still, but keep that arm elevated so it slows the bleeding,” Ariadne said, and he glanced over at the sound of tears that caught in her voice. She saw him watching her and wiped the back of her hand hastily across her eyes, snapping, “You _idiot._ You couldn’t have stayed out of trouble for one stupid job?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t do it to intentionally upset you.”

“You couldn’t have let Cobb or Eames get clobbered for once?” she demanded, and Arthur had to close his eyes as she wiped the quickly drying blood from the top of his cheek. “Idiot.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Arthur tried to say, but hissed in pain as she swiped the cloth across a bruise hidden under the blood.

“It _looks_ like you got your head split open and someone tried to beat you to death,” Ariadne said, her tone flat, as she dipped the cloth in a bowl of water by her elbow that was quickly turning pink. Arthur saw her bite her lip, and fought back a smile at how earnest she was regarding him. “I hope you don’t need stitches. I can do them, but I’m not all that good.”

“You know how to give someone stitches?” Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow. It made his head throb painfully, so he quickly relaxed.

“I had a summer job as a nurse’s aid, took a course and everything. They had us learn some trauma medicine.” Ariadne pulled a face, “It was too messy for me, but I guess I could do it again, in theory. Plus, it’ll come in useful if I keep working with people like you who keep jumping in front of other people’s fists.”

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes again. They’d had this argument before in various guises, but usually Ariadne hadn’t been cleaning up his blood at the same time. It made it hard to play down how dangerous things could get when she could see the injuries right in front of her. “It’s part of my job to make sure the others get out alright.”

“Yeah, maybe in the _dream._ You shouldn’t risk your life in reality.”

“What’s the difference? I can’t just protect them one minute and abandon them the next.”

“The difference is if you die for real, I’d never get to see you again!” Ariadne said, and Arthur could see her hands clench on her knees, knuckles white.

“Ariadne—“

“I don’t like seeing you hurt, Arthur! It’s bad enough when we can just wake up and you’re ok, but when you’re _really_ bleeding—“ Her hand came out to touch the side of his face, where she’d wiped away the blood, “I hate it.”

Cobb had the decency to cough before he walked over and set a glass of water down on the table where Ariadne was keeping her medical supplies.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, glancing from Arthur to Ariadne and back.

“No—Uh…” Ariadne colored a little and ducked her head so her hair fell across her face. She drew her hand back to fall into her lap, “I think he’ll be fine, just need to… Bandage him up.”

“Will you be all right if we head out?” Cobb asked, looking past them to where Arthur could hear Eames moving around.

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur said, sitting up a little and reaching for the glass of water, “Ariadne’s a very good nurse.”

Cobb raised an eyebrow at him behind Ariadne’s head, and Arthur hid his smirk with a sip of the water.

As Ariadne set to work taping a square of gauze over the gash on his forehead, Arthur listened to the sounds of Eames and Cobb packing up to go. Before he shut the door behind him, Eames called back over his shoulder that Arthur should try blocking the blows with his hands next time instead of his head, and then they were alone on the empty warehouse, the only light the glow of streetlamps from outside and a single desk lamp sitting on the table.

Ariadne took Arthur’s injured arm in her hands, turning it so she could start wiping down the skin around the gash near his elbow. It was a few inches long, and deeper than the one on his forehead, and as she worked it started to bleed again, sluggishly, stinging as the water hit it. Arthur didn’t let the minor pain show in his face, but Ariadne wasn’t looking at him in any case, too intent on cleaning his wounds to notice his expression.

They didn’t speak as she fished some iodine solution in a squeeze bottle out of the first aid kit and rinsed the cut itself, but she glanced up at Arthur’s face as she irrigated the wound. Though it burned where the disinfectant hit the raw edges of his skin, Arthur smiled a little at her concern, and didn’t flinch.

Another square of gauze covered the gash, and Arthur held the pressure as Ariadne wrapped a roll of bandages around his forearm until the red stopped soaking through, and tied off the ends in a precise knot. 

Finally, she spoke softly, breaking the comfortable silence between them to say, “Take off your shirt.”

A smile made the corner of Arthur’s lip quirk up, “Whatever you say, nurse.”

“Oh shut up,” Ariadne said, her face flushing a little again, and she took a swipe at his shoulder lightly, “I need to see if you’re hurt anywhere else.”

“Just bruises, I think. Nothing much to do about those,” Arthur said, but he grabbed the hem of his shirt and started to pull it up over his head, careful not to mess up the bandage above his eye.

He saw Ariadne wince as he folded the shirt and tossed it over the back of his chair, and glanced down at himself. There were several large, purpling blotches across his chest and ribs where he’d fallen or been kicked, and a few places where the skin was scraped raw. Ariadne reached out with light, cool hands to touch the largest of the bruises, near his collarbone, and Arthur reached up to grab her fingers, lifting it to his lips so he could kiss her palm gently.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said in a low voice, and tugged her gently forward, “Come here.”

Ariadne hesitated for a second, then moved to half-kneel on the edge of Arthur’s chair, kicking off her shoes as she did so and tucking one leg beneath her. She twined her fingers with his, and leaned forward to rest her cheek against his bare chest, near his heart, her eyes closed.

“I was worried about you,” she said with an accusatory tone in her words, and Arthur smoothed a hand across her hair, brushing it away from her face.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“Not sorry enough not to do it again,” Ariadne said, her fingers tightening a little where they were locked with his.

“No, sweetheart, I’m afraid not,” he leaned down to press his lips to the top of her head, breathing in the smell of her—vanilla from her shampoo, the scent of old books, old coffee. The particular way a person smelled was never quite right in a dream. It was something too vibrantly vital and real to be replicated, and Arthur gingerly put his injured arm around her shoulders, drawing her in.

Ariadne titled her face up, frowning slightly, and before she could argue with him, Arthur leaned down to kiss her gently, his lips barely brushing hers until she leaned up into him, deepening the kiss. As she moved, she pressed a little on one of Arthur’s bruises, and he swallowed the little hiss of pain that threatened to break free, instead tugging her forward until she swung one leg over him, straddling his hips.

She was a warm, solid weight in his lap, and Arthur smiled against her lips, not bothering to try and moderate his emotions as he usually did. Ariadne’s fingers trailed down his cheek and across his throat, ticklish and feather-light, and he settled his hands on her hips, a thumb hooked through the belt-loops on each side of her jeans.

“Anyway, with _this_ kind of care, who wouldn’t want to get hurt?” he joked, leaning his head back a little to look at her face. She had a way of looking both annoyed and amused that made her incredibly cute, and Arthur grinned as the familiar expression crossed her face.

“You’d better not take any more stupid risks.” Ariadne’s hands had settled against his chest, her fingers spread a little and her palms flat against his skin, and Arthur reached up to wrap her in his arms, pulling her into another slow, tender kiss. 

As they kissed, Ariadne reached up to start unzipping her jacket, shrugging it off and tossing it to the side before she leaned back, arching a little in the circle of Arthur’s arms to fumble and untuck the tank-top she was wearing underneath, tossing that after her jacket as soon as she got it off. She was wearing far too many layers, Arthur decided, as she peeled off the long-sleeve t-shirt below that, finally revealing her skin, washed out and smooth in the glow of the single lamp that had been left illuminated.

Arthur kissed her chest lightly, reaching around to unhook the straps of her bra in a clumsy motion. She shrugged it off as soon as the clasp came loose, letting it fall after the rest of her clothes, and Arthur regarded her for a moment with an admiring glance, taking in the smooth curves of her shoulders and breasts, the freckles on her arms and the little scar where she’d had her appendix out as a child. He let his hands travel down her ribs to settle on her hips again, just above the waistband of her jeans, and she bent forward to capture him in another kiss, nipping lightly at his lip with her teeth.

The button to her jeans was blessedly easy to tug undone, and Arthur pulled the zipper open with a swift yank, revealing plain white underwear. He slipped his hand down the front, past the patch of curls to dip into her slit and made her gasp a little, her hands closing around his shoulders convulsively. She was already damp, and he drew a finger up to her clit, pressing lightly and making her buck, sending a little jolt of pleasure through his cock as she ground against him.

The room was almost too cold, but Ariadne was warm against him as she wrapped her arms around his neck, bearing forward to rub herself against his hand. Arthur kissed her again, quickly, then pulled his hand away from her pussy to grab each side of her jeans, pulling them down. Ariadne got the point quickly and rose up on her knees, reaching down to take over and, wriggling a little in a way that managed to be both awkward and ridiculously arousing, she pulled them down over her hips. On the small chair, she nearly kicked Arthur in the face yanking them off the rest of the way, and her panties soon followed, leaving her totally nude.

Leaning forward, Ariadne undid the buckle to Arthur’s belt quickly, then the button and zipper, and he lifted his hips so she could slide his pants off. It took a second of tugging and Arthur trying to avoid smacking her in the nose, but she finally got his shoes and socks off as well and let his pants slip to the floor in their wake.

Ariadne slid back up to swing a leg over Arthur again, leaning back to rest on his thighs as she slid a hand into the waistband of his boxers and found his cock, already stiff and needy. She slipped her fingers around it and tugged gently, slicking her palm with the precum that was already leaving a wet spot on the fabric of Arthur’s underwear. It made him gasp sharply, and he tightened his fingers on her hips, pulling a little, wanting her closer.

There was a smile on Ariadne’s lips as she pulled his boxers down, shoving them to about Arthur’s knees before she wrapped her hand around his cock again, sliding up and down in even, rhythmic strokes, squeezing a little tighter on each upstroke, her thumb sliding up to brush across the head and make him shudder and groan. She had teased him the first time they’d had sex about just how much noise she could coax out of him, but he knew she liked to know the effect she was having on him and didn’t try to fight back a moan as her other hand reached out to cradle his balls.

He shifted under her, leaning forward to reach out and slid a finger along her wet slit again, and then easily into her. She was hot and wet, and as he brushed his thumb over her clit lightly he felt her clench a little around him and saw her bite her lip.

“There’s a condom in the first aid kit,” she said, breathless, her hand still keeping up its steady rhythm on his cock.

“Why?” Arthur asked blankly, but he leaned over to fumble through the band-aids and bottles of medicine until his hand found a little sharp-edged square packet.

“Eames stocks it for emergencies,” Ariadne shrugged, then took the condom from him, opening it with one hand and her teeth, the other continuing to stroke him up and down. Arthur took the opportunity to add another finger to the one inside her and wiggled them slightly, making her bite her lip again as she rolled the condom over his shaft in a smooth, practiced motion.

Arthur slipped his fingers out of her and put his hands on her hips again, following her motion as she lifted herself up and centered herself over him before lowering down slowly until he was engulfed by her pussy. The sensation of wet, tight, heat made him groan, and he leaned his head back against the chair, holding as still as he could as she settled herself around him, her thighs clenching a little as she adjusted to being filled.

Ariadne dipped one of her own hands to her pussy, rubbing lightly at her clit as she started to rock back and forth, inhaling deeply as she slid off his cock and exhaling as she sank back down. Arthur, for his part, leaned up to kiss her again, his tongue darting out to explore her mouth, each little tremor of her pussy around him making him hiss or moan against her lips. She rode him at an easy rhythm, a slow sensual pace, the hand that wasn’t rubbing her clit resting on his shoulder lightly.

The tension built slowly, steadily, the heat building between them as they pressed together, bare skin hot against bare skin. Arthur could feel her nipples hard against his chest, and the soft slap of their bodies meeting was the only sound in the warehouse aside from the noise of traffic filtering in from outside. Ariadne’s breath was coming in shorter gasps, and Arthur could feel the tension building in her body wherever his hands roamed, from her smooth shoulders to her slim waist to her legs clenched around him, guiding the steps of the dance they both knew. 

They didn’t need words. The occasional sharp intake of breath from Ariadne and the soft little moans that Arthur made were enough communication, and they knew each others bodies well enough to do just the thing to drive the other more intensely towards the edge.

The harsh light of the single lamp lit up the reddish flush that was spreading across Ariadne’s face and chest, and her fingers bit suddenly into the tender flesh near Arthur’s throat as she leaned forward, sliding down fully onto his cock and grinding against him. There was a second in which she buried her face against his neck, eyes squeezed shut, and Arthur felt her spasm around him in a sudden rush of heat and wetness. She didn’t cry out, didn’t even squeak, but the way she went boneless against his chest was better than any noise she could have made. Arthur let her relax for a second, her hair falling forward in a sheet to brush across his chest, riding out the tremors of her orgasm before he slowly began to thrust into her gain.

He felt Ariadne smile against his skin, and she pressed herself up against him, bringing every inch of skin she could into contact with his, tilting her hips back to make it easier for him to slide in and out at a quicker pace than the one she had favored. There was something deeply wonderful about the way she clung to him, her fingers tracing the nape of his neck, her lips working their way up his jawline and then to the bandage on his forehead, leaving little feathery kisses on his skin. Arthur felt a tightness building low in his stomach, and growled a little, his hands closing around her hips to steady himself as he thrust more aggressively, making the chair shudder a little beneath them both.

It took only another minute or so before Arthur felt himself tip suddenly over the edge of control, and he cried out as he came, hard, bucking up into her as the shudder ran through his body. The tension flooded out of him, and he could hear white static filling his ears as his heartbeat raced, then slowed, and he relaxed back against the chair in a heap, breathing hard as the pleasure of the orgasm started to fade.

Ariadne slid off him after a slow moment and curled up against his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder and her fingers finding his and twining. 

Her breath was warm against his cheek, and if the warehouse hadn’t been so damn cold he probably would have felt the urge to fall asleep. But, he was naked and had coworkers who would be coming back in the morning, and he could see that there was blood soaking through the bandage on his arm already.

So instead he slid his hand down to the small of Ariadne’s back (he could feel goose bumps and knew she would probably start shivering soon,) and tugged her in close so he could kiss her forehead.

“We should go,” he said, and felt her nod.

“In a minute.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, craning up to look at him with a quizzical expression.

“For taking care of me. For yelling at me when I’m bleeding. For reminding me that I’m not the only one who feels it when I get hurt.” He stared at her for a second, memorizing the sweet look on her face, the way her cheeks turned pink the instant before she looked away.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, her voice tight with a grin, and he laughed a little, savoring the sense of her, solid and real.


End file.
